


1444

by mornen



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Dark Comedy, Halls of Mandos, Humor, I don't know, Isolation, M/M, Therapy, kind of, lockdown - Freeform, lol, no sided relationship, talk of death, they're in a psych ward basically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-02-23 00:29:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23402848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mornen/pseuds/mornen
Summary: Glorfindel and Finrod spend lock-down together in the Halls of Mandos.
Relationships: Finrod Felagund | Findaráto/Glorfindel
Comments: 15
Kudos: 37





	1. Chapter 1

Glorfindel turned down the hall. It was grey. Everything was grey. Behind him, souls were weeping. He needed quiet, so he was being sent to rest in isolation. Elves who had suffered violent deaths often needed this, he had been told, gently, probably so he wouldn’t feel bad about himself for just wanting peace and quiet. He’d done enough in his life. It was fine. They weren’t his responsibility now.

‘All you have to do now is rest,’ Mandos had said before giving him the number to a room where he could go and do that.

1444.

Glorfindel checked the number before him and then the number on the slip of paper written in Mandos’s swooping script. 

1444.

Glorfindel turned the handle and stepped in.

The only other person in the small, grey room was Finrod. He was sitting with his back to the wall, arms looped around his drawn up legs. He had a blue blanket draped over his shoulders and was playing chess with himself. He looked up when Glorfindel stepped in and a smile spread over his glowing face.

‘Glorfindel!’ and with that Finrod was on his feet, knocking over the game of chess as he jumped up, and he flew across the floor and flung his arms around Glorfindel.

Glorfindel held him tightly, lifting him slightly off his feet in the hug, which was quite impressive considering they were both spirits and sort of floating.

‘Finrod.’

Finrod drew Glorfindel’s face down and kissed his forehead.

‘I’m so sorry,’ he said. ‘I hadn’t realised you’d died.’

‘No,’ Glorfindel said. ‘I mean, it was recent. I haven’t been here long.’

Finrod nodded and sat down again. He picked up the scattered pieces from the board but didn’t set a new game or fix the old one. Glorfindel sat beside him.

‘How did you die?’ Finrod asked. ‘If you care to answer.’

Glorfindel sucked his breath in before remembering that he wasn’t breathing. He would have choked, but he didn’t have organs.

‘Fucking Balrog,’ he said.

‘Ah,’ said Finrod. ‘A fucking Balrog, not fucking a Balrog, I hope?’

Glorfindel hit him. ‘I just remembered why I never visited you.’

‘I thought it was because I was dead.’

‘Before that.’

Finrod smiled.

‘I missed you,’ Glorfindel said.

‘Missed you too.’

Finrod tapped two game pieces together. There was a blindingly white line crossed over his neck.

‘I’d offer you a drink, but,’ he said.

Glorfindel nodded. He touched the tapestry on the wall. He didn’t have a mirror, but his face was probably crossed with the same white lines. He could see glowing marks on his arms where he’d been burnt.

There was a soft patch of light on one wall in semblance of a window. Glorfindel stared at it for awhile. He didn’t have much to say.

‘Is Turgon dead too?’ Finrod asked.

‘Yes.’

‘I’ll have to see him sometime.’

‘Yes.’ Glorfindel ran his hand through his hair. It never tangled here. ‘You know, this is the first time in my life I haven’t had to spend an hour dealing with my hair in the morning,’ he said.

‘That’s because you’re dead,’ Finrod said.

‘What does my face look like?’

Finrod studied his face. ‘It’s… it’s all glowing that blinding white.’

Glorfindel once again tried to suck his breath in and once again failed.

‘It takes awhile to get used to,’ Finrod said. He set the board. ‘So, a Balrog.’

‘Grabbed my hair, pulled me down.’

‘Yikes.’

‘Yeah.’

Finrod was different there, but so was Glorfindel. They both could talk your ear off in life, but now they were quiet, awkward, sitting and not knowing what to say. It’s part of the healing, Mandos would say. You have to heal your mind. Sometimes that’s just sitting.

Finrod put the blanket around both of them, and Glorfindel rested his head on his shoulder. The blanket was comforting, although he was never hot or cold in death. He wished he was cold sometimes. He really did.

‘Remember how we met?’ Finrod asked.

‘Slammed into you running around a corner without looking,’ Glorfindel said.

‘Was that it?’ Finrod said.

‘I was reckless,’ Glorfindel said.

‘Ah,’ Finrod said. ‘Hence the death.’

‘You’re one to talk.’

‘Always was.’

Finrod pushed a piece along the board. He knocked it over. Glorfindel held him tighter. They didn’t have bodies, but they also didn’t melt into each other. He had thought they might.

‘I’m tired,’ Glorfindel said. ‘So tired.’

‘We’re here to rest.’

Glorfindel nodded. Rest. He wanted to rest, but he felt like he couldn’t. He felt like he should be fighting still. He remembered the moment of his death. He wished he didn’t. It had been awful. He’d been clawing, scratching, biting, the world flashing in front of him, and then it was gone. He kept trying to move his hands, but they weren’t there. He tried to scream, tried to breathe, but he couldn’t breathe, and every scream was in his head. And then he’d been floating, floating so softly. And he’d thought he should be at peace, but he wasn’t.

But Finrod was there, and that helped.

‘I love your face,’ he said.

Finrod laughed. ‘Am I glowy?’

‘Aren’t we all?’

Glorfindel touched the line across Finrod’s neck. Finrod looked down.

‘You’ll learn to rest,’ he said. ‘You will. It gets better.’

Glorfindel fiddled with the edge of the blanket. He really hoped so.

They played chess for awhile in silence. It was nice just to move the pieces and hear the heavy sounds they made as they were lifted and set.

‘It’s going to be all right,’ Finrod said. ‘I’m going to take care of you.’

Glorfindel smiled at the chess board.

‘Are you?’

‘Yes, because I’m older,’ Finrod said. ‘In being born and in dying.’

‘Boo,’ Glorfindel said.

Finrod laughed. ‘Don’t argue. I will win.’

‘I won’t argue.’

‘Because you’d lose,’ said Finrod.

‘We both know I wouldn’t.’

‘We both know you would.’

Glorfindel laughed. ‘No.’

‘We’re starting already.’

‘We are.’

Finrod squeezed him tighter.

‘It’s going to be okay.’

‘I know,’ Glorfindel said.

It was all grey. It was grey, it was grey, and it was quiet.


	2. Chapter 2

Finrod pinched the bridge of his very cute nose. Eight days. It had been eight days. Look, Finrod was nice. Finrod was pleasant. Finrod liked understanding people and helping them and listening and all that jazz. But this? This? This was inelven. Because eight days is an awful long time to spend alone with another person in one room, even if the other person is the embodiment of strength, hope, joy, and everything good. 

He looked over at Glorfindel. 

‘Please,’ he said, patiently, calmly, with every intent of maintaining a good relationship with his roommate. ‘Will you please, shut the fuck up?’ 

Glorfindel paused. He was in the middle of another story about Ecthelion’s birdbaths. 

Finrod tried to let out a long breath. He let go of his nose and waited for Glorfindel to say something, which was ironic, considering he had just asked him to shut up. 

Glorfindel opened and then closed his mouth. He looked at Finrod. 

‘I can’t take it,’ Finrod said. He put down his colouring book and the magenta pencil he’d been using to shade a bright peony. ‘I just can’t. I’m trying to be nice here, but we’re not allowed to leave for another twenty-two days, and I can’t take it. I can’t.’ 

Glorfindel looked at the calendar. He wasn’t entirely sure how days or months or time in general were measured in the Halls of Mandos. But they were all locked up for thirty days while a bad case of Death Resentment, Anger, Fear, and Terror swept the halls. For obvious reasons, Mandos didn’t want everyone catching it. So until the halls were safe from the case of DRAFT, everyone was under lock-down. Since he had been resting in isolation with Finrod for his recovery, they were roommates.

Which was fine. Really. It was. Until your room-mate told you to shut the fuck up in the middle of your exciting tale of Ecthelion’s fine DIY skills. 

Glorfindel folded his incorporeal arms. 

‘I didn’t know you felt that way, dear,’ he said, jutting his chin up just a little so that Finrod could fully understand his hurt. 

‘It’s too much,’ Finrod said, looking at the little glowing patch of light substituting for a window. ‘You’ve been talking about your boyfriend for four days, and I’m sorry I’m not your boyfriend!’ 

Glorfindel tossed his extremely beautiful hair.

‘Fine.’

‘Fine!’

Finrod grabbed a red pencil and scribbled furiously in his colouring book. Why these things were thought to be so relaxing was beyond him. He looked at Glorfindel. Glorfindel wrinkled his nose. Finrod scrunched up his face back at him. He scribbled in a red vine, getting lots and lots of colour outside the lines. 

‘That’s not how you’re supposed to colour,’ Glorfindel said.

‘I know that’s not how you’re supposed to colour!’ Finrod snapped. He tossed the pencil and the colouring book down. He steepled his fingers and fixed Glorfindel with the deadliest stare he could manage considering they were already, like, dead and stuff. 

Glorfindel looked at the calendar again. He leaned his head back against the wall. 

Finrod drummed his fingers against his leg. It was a grey room with two beds against opposite walls. Both had a small bedside table with a single drawer. There was a small closet near the entrance door across from the bathroom. The water in the shower was strange, more like a warm concept of mist than actual water, but it was still nice to shower.

They faced each other. It was funny to think they were actually friends. It was the tiny space and being stuck with each other. It was too much. 

‘We can play a board game,’ Glorfindel said. 

‘We have played every stupid board game in this stupid place,’ Finrod said. 

‘We can play again.’

‘I don’t want to play again.’ 

Finrod jumped up and paced the small room. 

‘It’s because of how you died,’ Glorfindel said quietly. 

‘Shut up.’

‘You were locked up,’ Glorfindel continued. ‘This reminds you of it, doesn’t it?’

Finrod whirled on him, glaring. 

‘I didn’t ask you to therapise me!’ 

‘But that’s why,’ Glorfindel said. 

Finrod slumped on his bed and grabbed for the colouring book again. 

‘Fine, tell me about the birdbaths.’

Glorfindel got up and sat down on the bed next to him.

‘It has to be hard for you.’

‘Oh fuck you, Glorfindel,’ Finrod groaned. ‘You’re always like this.’ 

‘And you’re not always like this.’

‘Okay maybe being imprisoned while everyone died around me did a number on me!’ Finrod snapped. ‘Are you really going to make me sit and talk about it!’ 

‘Sorry,’ Glorfindel said. He rubbed his shoulder.

‘I’m sorry too,’ Finrod said. ‘I shouldn’t have shouted. It’s not your fault.’

Glorfindel kissed the top of his head.

‘Love you.’

‘Love you too.’ 

Finrod patted his hand.


	3. Chapter 3

‘Got any fives?’ Glorfindel asked.

‘No,’ said Finrod. ‘Go fish.’

Glorfindel sighed.

‘Finrod?’

‘Yes, Goldilocks?’

‘This is the most boring game of all time.’

‘Not more boring than doing nothing,’ Finrod answered.

Glorfindel turned and banged his head against the wall. He was pretty much incorporeal, so it didn’t do much.

Finrod laughed.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘But there isn’t anything to do here but colour and maybe play some games. Sometimes we get new books.’

Glorfindel dropped all the cards on the floor.

‘Chaos.’

‘Mm.’

Finrod got up and paced the room and the small hall between the closet and the shower.

Glorfindel stared at the patch of light on the wall.

‘We could...’ he said.

‘We could,’ said Finrod.

‘Do you want to?’

‘I’m so bored.’

‘But does that mean you want to?’

‘I don’t know.’ Finrod stopped pacing. ‘Do you want to?’

‘Oh, no,’ Glorfindel said. ‘Let’s not play this.’

‘Fine,’ Finrod said. ‘I want to.’

‘All right,’ Glorfindel said. ‘I want to to.’

‘Not against the rules or anything,’ Finrod said. ‘We just can’t leave isolation.’

‘Right,’ Glorfindel said. ‘But this isn’t leaving isolation.’

‘Oh,’ said Finrod. ‘Just to be clear: are you talking about fucking?’

‘Yes, to be clear, I am talking about fucking.’

‘Okay.’ Finrod stretched like he was getting ready for a race.

‘Can we?’ Glorfindel said.

‘We can try!’ Finrod threw his arms up in excitement.

‘Let’s try then,’ Glorfindel said.

Finrod nodded. He crossed the small room very quickly as it was extremely and intolerably small and slid onto Glorfindel’s lap.

Then he kissed him.

Glorfindel kissed him back. They could kiss, which was nice, albeit a tiny bit surprising. Unfortunately, they didn’t really have blood, which kind of put a damper in the idea of fucking.

‘I’m going to scream,’ Finrod said.

‘Please don’t,’ Glorfindel said.

It was a very small room.

‘Fine. I won’t scream.’ Finrod kissed Glorfindel again. ‘It’s better than go fish at least.’

‘Honey, almost anything is better than go fish.’

‘True.’

Glorfindel wrapped his arms tightly around Finrod, pulling him down onto the little single bed. He lay on top of him and kissed him again. Finrod kissed him for a very long time. They didn’t have blood, which was a drag, but also their lips couldn’t chap, which was an upside.

Finrod rolled them over after awhile so he was on top. He stroked Glorfindel’s hair and kissed it.

‘You’re so pretty,’ he said. ‘Even with…’

‘With what?’

‘With the marks. Scars? I’m not sure what to call them.’

‘Oh,’ Glorfindel said. ‘Like how my face is glowing?’

‘Yes.’

‘Doesn’t that make me prettier?’

‘Mmm, no. You were too pretty to get prettier.’

Glorfindel punched his arm lightly. ‘Flatterer.’

‘Haven’t I always been?’ Finrod rested his head on Glorfindel’s chest.

Glorfindel trailed his hand up and down Finrod’s back. He was glad they could feel. It was nice to have Finrod so close, being real, the only real thing in this place, realer than Glorfindel.

His fingers searched through Finrod’s hair. It felt different than he remembered, but it was close enough to bring him back to the old days, before they’d all been stupid, made mistakes bad enough to destroy thousands of lives.

‘We were really stupid,’ he whispered against the top of Finrod’s head.

‘Yeah,’ Finrod said, and he laughed a little.

‘Like, really, really stupid.’

‘Mm.’ Finrod smiled against Glorfindel’s chest.

They’ve never been in love but they’ve slept together before and made out a lot. Just fun, something to do on trips around Valinor. Roll around in the grass with their golden hair playing together, both excited by the visual, maybe more excited than they were by each other. It was hard to tell then, and it’s harder to tell now when all memories seem like nothing more than a dream someone else once had and told you years after.

Finrod kissed his chest.

‘Hey, Glorfindel?’

‘Mm?’

‘What are you going to do when we get out of isolation? Like, first thing you’re gonna do?’

‘Go hug all my friends tight enough to break their ribs,’ Glorfindel said. ‘I mean, if that was possible here.’

Finrod smiled.

Glorfindel squeezed him.

‘Good thing you can’t break their ribs here then,’ Finrod said.

‘And I’m gonna kiss them all,’ Glorfindel said. ‘And then I’m gonna do cartwheels down the main hall.’

‘Oh!’ Finrod said. ‘I want to see that!’

‘Of course you do,’ Glorfindel said. ‘It will be glorious. What are you going to do?’

‘I don’t know,’ Finrod says. ‘I mean, I’ve been in isolation for awhile before this… but I still got to go out and talk to people. I want to do that. Talk to everyone again. Maybe not spend so much time alone now… Maybe I’m healing.’

Glorfindel rubbed circles over his back.

‘It’s nice to have you here,’ Finrod said. ‘Playing stupid games, or just anything. I guess I was lonely. I just didn’t want to face anyone.’

‘I get that.’

Finrod nodded. ‘I guess it’s traumatic.’

‘Oh, traumatic for sure.’

Finrod laughed.

‘We’re traumatised,’ he said.

‘Horribly traumatised.’

‘Can’t face the past!’ Finrod said.

‘Can’t face the future.’

‘Can’t face ourselves,’ Finrod whispered.

‘Can’t forgive ourselves.’

‘It’s awful.’

‘It is awful.’

Finrod kissed Glorfindel’s cheek.

‘I fucked up,’ he said softly.

‘No shit,’ Glorfindel said.


End file.
